


alone, falling free

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Depression, M/M, Magic, Monster Hunters, Pining, Possession, Self Confidence Issues, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: A Haunt is a parasite—it feeds on any host that it can find, and when the host dies, it simply moves onto the next until it gets strong enough to live without a constant supply of despair to feed off of.Tadashi is supposed to hunt them, not become one of them.





	

 

 

_"I was never taught_  
 _to keep my head above water._  
 _I swallow hurt in mouthfuls."_  
—Zoë Lianne

* * *

 

The wind blowing over the rooftop is cold enough to chill Tadashi straight through the thick layers of his jacket and the hoodie underneath it. They’re high up—too high, with the street a distant memory a hundred feet down the sheer face of the building. The sun has just started to set, painting the snow-covered roof in violent shades of yellow and orange, like the sun is a flower blooming and dripping ocher and umber onto the world.

Snow is packed into the shape of footprints, leading up to the very edge, where the roof gives way to empty air. There’s the silhouette on the very edge, a boy, staring down at the ground with his arms spread wide from his body like he’s preparing to take flight. The black gakuran on his shoulders is probably a poor defense from the cold that leaves Tadashi shivering himself. On the back of his neck, there’s what almost appears to be a beetle, with its legs spread wide and a black mandible biting into the skin. Its body seems to quiver slightly with the act of feeding, swelling as the Haunt gorges itself on the victim.

The steel door that leads to the stairwell of the building bangs shut as Tsukki walks out of it as well, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, headphones loose around his neck. He looks at the boy on the ledge, the Haunt clinging to the back of his neck and sighs out slowly. “What a pain.”

Despite the cold weather, the grip of the knife that Tadashi clutches in the sleeve of his jacket feels hot. Possibly just from the warmth of his skin, or from the hum of energy he can feel coming from within it. It’s nerve-wracking, having to fight someone so close to the edge. The Haunt swells more, the black carapace of its back starting to crack and an eerie purple light leaking out from within.

It isn’t until Tadashi clears his throat nervously and takes a step forward that the boy even seems to realize that he isn’t alone. He turns slowly, carefully, placing his feet so he doesn’t slip off the edge. It’s a good sign that he cares about that much, even. He looks at them with a frown, tired circles etched around his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“You— you should get down.” Tadashi licks nervously at his lips. He still struggles with this part; he can’t coax sweetly like Suga or command respect like Daichi. It’s unlikely the boy would listen to anyone, no matter what was said to him. It isn’t his own desire to take his life that’s brought him to the very edge of this roof, it’s the Haunt attached to the nape of his neck, feeding off the darkness that he can feel consuming him.

A Haunt is a parasite—it feeds on any host that it can find, and when the host dies, it simply moves onto the next until it gets strong enough to live without a constant supply of despair to feed off of. This is a popular hunting ground for them, it seems. Tadashi can feel it, the way the loss of so many lives from this roof buzzes in the back of his head like a migraine. It never stops being sad, seeing people’s lives reduced to so little by monsters.

“Why?” The boy asks, and his voice is slow and tired, drawing the word into more than a single syllable like a yawn. “No one cares what happens to me.”

Tsukki moves slowly away from the door, his hands still tucked into his pockets. His face is impassive, though there’s a slight flush of pink on his cheeks from the cold breeze. Tadashi clears his throat again before he speaks, trying to sound more confident than he feels. “That’s not true. What about your friends? Your parents? They would miss you if you were gone.”

“They all just care about themselves,” the boy growls, and he shifts his weight so it’s simply resting on one foot, stretching the other out over the ledge. “That’s all _anybody_ cares about! I’m sick of it.”

Tadashi can’t see the Haunt on the back of the boy’s neck anymore, so instead he tosses a glance over toward Tsukki. He’s focused, his eyebrows pinched together slightly and a small frown twisting his lips downward. “I don’t want to live in a world like that anymore.”

“People care,” Tadashi tries to soothe, but his words ring out hollow and the boy laughs. It’s a surprise when he hops down from the ledge, throwing his arms out wide again.

“People _lie_! That’s all they do.” He looks over his shoulder, staring down the face of the building once more. There’s a twitch in his fingers, and Tadashi finds himself gripping the knife more tightly. Something in the air feels wrong.

Tsukki draws the silver pistol from his pocket slowly, careful not to make any noise. It doesn’t seem to matter, because the boy’s nostrils flare like he’s picking up on the smell of metal and gunpowder and he turns toward Tsukki, tilting his head at an angle that seems almost unnatural.

A few things seem to happen in the space of a few heartbeats—first, the Haunt on the back of the boy’s neck fractures further, erupting in a burst of violet light and a wave of heat so intense that the snow surrounding him melts into steam. Next, the boy gestures his arm at Tsukki and sharp disks of purple spring into the air, rushing through it with a soft whistle of speed.

It seems like Tsukki must have expected the Haunt to transform, because before he’s hit he tears a paper charm in half with his teeth, one that Tadashi didn’t even see him pull from his pocket. The paper dissolves in his hand like ashen charcoal and before they’re able to hit him, the disks collide with a solid, iridescent shield in front of Tsukki. Both hover in the air for a moment before the shield shatters and the disks vanish.

The boy laughs a high-pitched cackling sound that’s far from anything human. His veins are stark against his skin, colored dark and almost glowing, making his flesh look as thin as the paper in Tadashi’s fingers. He doesn’t tear the charm but instead bends his head slightly to blow on it. The paper leaps out of his fingers, folding itself in the air until it takes the shape of a paper doll. It twists, the tiny hummingbird wings beating the air before it splits into several identical dolls.

They mob through the air, and for a moment the delicate paper seems like it won’t do anything but crumble on contact, but by the time the swarm of a dozen shikigami surrounds the boy, the tail points of them are sharp enough to stab through flesh. They hover around him, dancing in an abstract spiral through the air, waiting…

No longer is the light from the sun casting the roof in gold and orange, but instead a deepening blue of night. The boy raises his arm again, but before he can bring it down with the intent to attack, the shikigami dive for the Haunt still clinging to the back of his neck. The carapace that encased it safely is gone, leaving instead a mass of pulsing flesh that glows like a radioactive toxin. The boy laughs again, manic, as the shikigami stab their sharp points again and again into the body of the Haunt.

Tadashi pulls another charm from the pocket of his coat, a seal, trying to fold it into the proper shape despite the shake in his hands. The shikigami begin to disintegrate, falling to the ground as nothing more than folded sheets of paper once their magic is spent.

The boy is whipping his head between Tadashi and Tsukki, kicking the fallen shikigami into puddles of melted snow and bringing both of his arms over his head with a scream that erupts so loudly from his mouth that Tadashi fumbles and drops the seal, clapping his hands over his ears instead. It doesn’t help—the screech pierces through until it’s filling up his brain, making his stomach turn with the sick disorientation. Tadashi feels like he’s moving but he can’t be sure of his feet sliding through the slush and water and snow on the roof.

He can feel, he’s sure, where the roof ends, just a few feet away, and with it, there’s a growing sensation that he’s falling—that he’s flying.

A gunshot fires and Tadashi’s movement jerks abruptly to a stop. For a confused moment, he drops his hands and grips at his chest, wondering where the bullet hit him. The screaming stops and Tadashi blinks his eyes, realizing that he’s on his knees in a puddle of melted snow, blood leaking out of one of his ears.

There’s smoke coming from the muzzle of Tsukki’s pistol, and the boy is in a curled heap on the ground, shaking slightly. Tadashi picks himself up, watching as Tsukki pulls the headphones off of his ears and looks down at the boy with a frown. Quickly, Tadashi does his best to wipe the blood away from his ear, like he can cover the evidence of how bad a mistake he’s almost made.

He’s envious over how easily Tsukki managed to take care of things in spite of Tadashi’s bumbling. It stews in the back of his mind, and he gives the edge of the building a nervous glance. It’s close enough to send a disquieted shiver down his spine before he steps forward to help the boy up, mumbling whatever soothing words come to his mind. He’s not sure if he’s really any help at all.

What Tadashi doesn’t see is the shadow that follows after him, an aberration on the dark roof. It chases his steps down the stairs, silent and flowing like a puddle of spilled ink in his wake.

 

*** * ***

It seems too early for Tadashi’s alarm to be going off, blaring a song that Tsukki programmed into his phone until he’s entirely powerless to ignore it. Tadashi groans, rolling over from his stomach to his side to grab hold of his phone and turn off the noise. Once it’s silent again in his room, Tadashi flops back to the bed, hugging his pillow close to his face again and groaning into the soft surface of it.

When he blinks his eyes open, slow and bleary, something odd catches his eye. On his left forearm, there’s a strange shadow. He frees his right arm to poke at it, only to find it’s not a shadow at all but a cluster of smooth black feathers. That’s enough to make Tadashi bolt upright, holding his arm out to stare at the patch. It’s not very large, smaller than the width of his palm, but it’s obvious that they’ve grown out of his skin, rather than just having been stuck there by some odd chance.

Tentative, fingers shaking, Tadashi plucks one of the feathers. It stings, like plucking a hair from his head almost, and he stares as a small bead of blood wells up in the place of the missing feather.

This is not something that should be happening to him. There’s no reason for him to be sprouting feathers overnight.

Tadashi lunges across the bed to grab his phone from the nightstand once more, flipping it open. His fingers hover over the buttons, but from there he hesitates. Who is he supposed to call about something like this? Tsukki? Daichi?

He’s not sure what either of them would say, or if they would help him at all really. Besides, it’s early, and anyone he might think to speak to is probably busy getting ready for the day…

It’s not worth troubling them since he’ll be on his way in a few moments. Tadashi closes his phone again, clinging it in his fist for a moment before setting it down and rolling himself out of bed instead.

In the bathroom, before he takes a shower, he leaves the trash can full of dark feathers, tipped with blood from being plucked from his skin.

Once he’s in the shower, he can feel something strange on his back, and it takes an acrobatic level of twisting and prodding at himself before he’s able to find the clutch of feathers at the curve of his back. He turns under the spray of the water, trying to see them as well.

With his head twisted as far over his shoulder as he can manage, he plucks feathers from his back until the drain is clogged with them, resting in a damp pile and pooling pink water at his feet from the blood leaking from each fresh wound.

Tadashi gathers the feathers into his hands carefully, turning the flow of the water off, grabbing as many were he can before throwing them away as well. He’s unable to stop shaking, it seems, rinsing the stray feathers off of his fingers and watching the blood-tinted water flow down the drain.

He does an uncertain job of bandaging his back, leaving his arm a mess of tiny scabs that have just started to form. He’s late—late enough that there’s a text from Tsukki demanding to know where he is and another asking if Tadashi is walking to school alone.

It’s a mad dash to get ready after reading both of those, and Tadashi winds up tripping down the stairs, still pulling one of his shoes on, shirt misbuttoned. He looks a mess, he knows, with damp hair clinging to his forehead and dripping down the back of his shirt. He swings the door open to find Tsukki leaning on the stone wall that hems in the stairs of Tadashi’s house, headphones on and eyes fixed on his phone.

He rubs the back of his neck, swallowing when his fingers run over more feathers there as well. Before Tsukki looks up, he elbows the door shut and tries to pluck them as well, dropping them to the ground behind him. “S- sorry! I slept in this morning.”

“I see that,” Tsukki glances up at him sideways before lowering his headphones around his neck once more, tucking his phone back into his pocket as well. “Now we’re both late since you didn’t text me.”

“S- sorry,” he stumbles out another awkward apology, hoping Tsukki doesn’t look any further for something wrong with him. Tadashi isn’t sure he could come up with a better excuse than simply waking up late at this point.

He counts himself lucky, for once, that all Tsukki does is roll his eyes in slight irritation and start walking ahead. It’s not quite that Tadashi sighs in relief, but his shoulders do sag slightly with it, a little bit of tension leaving him.

Tsukki gives him an odd look for that, but Tadashi pretends not to notice it. He knows he usually fills these walks to school with chatter and conversation, but this morning, there’s nothing to say that springs easily to his mind.

Gripping the strap of his bag tightly in one hand, Tadashi looks down at his feet as he walks.

He notices all the small glances that Tsukki sends in his direction. He looks almost like he wants to say something, to point out Tadashi’s strangely quiet attitude, but he stops each time.

Tadashi wonders if that’s because he enjoys the quiet more than he enjoys Tadashi’s useless chatter. The thought makes him bite the inside of his lip to keep anything from coming out, feeling foolish enough in his silence.

Halfway to school, Tsukki puts his headphones back on, focusing his eyes forward. He doesn’t glance back at Tadashi again, and Tadashi chews his lip raw. When they arrive, the courtyard is empty of students, meaning there’s even further for them to go without speaking before they split off from one another for class.

Before Tadashi opens the door to his, Tsukki pulls his headphones off and sighs at him, shaking his head slightly. “Fix your shirt.”

Tadashi looks down at his chest, the mismatched buttons holding his shirt closed, before slumping himself slightly further and turning around to fix it. It probably nets him a pair of raised eyebrows, but by the time he fixes it and turns around, Tsukki has already left for class on his own.

He tries to slide in as quietly as possible, but the teacher still glares straight through him until he mumbles an apology and sinks into his seat.

The morning alone has been enough to make Tadashi wish he were invisible.

 

*** * ***

The day, shockingly, does not get any better for Tadashi.

He shouldn’t have expected it to, not when the baseline set by his morning was ‘waking up with random patches of feathers’. Still, he started out assuming his luck could only go up from there, and he’s sorely let down by the assumption.

It starts with getting called on no less than three times during math class to stumble his way through equations he has no idea of the answer to. After the last failure, he sinks so low in his seat that he nearly falls out of it, wrapping his arms around his sides.

At least there are no more feathers sprouting on his arm.

He can feel them on his back, though, especially on his shoulder blades. They catch against the fabric of his shirt, dragging strange and smooth before he shuffles his shoulders to free his… the feathers. It’s an increasingly uncomfortable situation, and by the time lunch rolls around Tadashi almost wishes he could tell someone so they could help him pluck them out.

Ducking out of his classroom, he turns into the bathroom rather than making his usual beeline to have lunch at Tsukki’s desk. He locks himself into a stall, untucking his shirt and pulling the back of it up, bending and stretching his arms up his back in a desperate effort to reach the feathers there. He can’t quite manage, but he only finds more of them each time his fingers press against his back.

He resists the urge to pluck handfuls of them out wherever he can feel them. It’ll only lead to more bleeding, he knows, which will only lead to his shirt getting ruined. Meaning he’ll have to come up with some kind of excuse to go home early and change, since he forgot both his lunch and his gym clothes in his scramble not to be too late.

With a sigh, he drops his shirt and does his best to tuck it in once again before backtracking to Tsukki’s class. Tsukki hardly looks up from his food when Tadashi sits, one of his eyebrows raising slightly. He has his headphones on and seems to debate with himself a moment before pulling them off to rest around his neck once more. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I didn’t bring anything,” Tadashi answers, his shoulders slumping. He finds himself picking nervously at the scabs on his arm, withering more the longer Tsukki stares at him. Tsukki’s gaze must drop to the activity of Tadashi’s hand because he leans forward just slightly.

“Did you fall?” His voice is neutral, almost carefully so and Tadashi covers the spot with his hand before shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s nothing.” It isn’t as if he can explain, nor is Tsukki likely to press the subject.

Tadashi is right, Tsukki doesn’t ask anything further. He does pick at his lunch for another moment before nudging it toward the center of the table, pulling his English notes out instead. It takes Tadashi a moment of staring to realize what Tsukki is up to, and he shakes his head with a bark of laughter that sounds far from sincere. “I’m fine! You should eat it Tsukki! You probably need the energy more than me.”

Tsukki frowns at that or at least frowns more than he usually does. “Don’t complain about being hungry later.”

“I won’t,” Tadashi smiles right back at him, though he knows it’s not as bright as usual. He’s having trouble finding the cheerfulness that usually comes to him so easily. Really, he isn’t even hungry. He’s not sure he could eat even if he had his own food with his stomach feeling as tight as it is now—like someone dropped a stone into the pit of it and left it there.

Tsukki seems reluctant to keep eating but slowly picks his chopsticks back up. He glances again at Tadashi’s arm, and this time, Tadashi slides his hand off of the desk and tucks it between his thighs instead, tilting his head to the side. “You reported everything from last night back to Daichi-san, right?”

“Most of it,” Tsukki answers, eyes focused now on his notes. Tadashi makes a small sound in reply and Tsukki glances up at him, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “I told him everything important.”

“Okay.” He wonders what wasn’t important enough for Tsukki to share but doesn’t ask. Daichi and Suga are the school’s only other exorcists and because of that, Tsukki and Tadashi report to them directly. It serves in place of a regular club activity, and most days after school the four of them either spend time training in magic or patrolling for Haunts.

“Do you think—” Tadashi starts, then pauses when Tsukki looks up at him, shaking his head. “Nevermind.”

It would be silly to ask Tsukki for a performance review after every one of their hunts. Besides, he knows well enough on his own that he did a poor job. If he were with anyone less observant or skilled than Tsukki, he probably would have gone plummeting over the edge of the building himself.

The thought makes a shudder creep down his spine. He can remember it well, the confusion that made him shuffle to the edge and the thought that if he only stepped off he would be able to fly through the empty air.

“Do I think what?” Tsukki asks flatly, interrupting the twisting path of Tadashi’s thoughts. Tadashi jolts to sitting up straight, laughing a little awkwardly and shaking his head.

“I- it’s nothing. I was just thinking about something a girl in my class said today.” It’s a decent enough lie because Tsukki just rolls his eyes.

“You worry too much about that stuff.” It’s not quite like Tsukki is scolding him, but it’s close enough that Tadashi tightens his fingers in his lap, a frown on his face. He knows he isn’t attractive to girls like Tsukki is—he’s been handed enough confession letters to pass off on his behalf to learn that lesson.

He’s probably read more of those letters than Tsukki has since Tsukki’s first instinct is to simply throw them away. Tadashi insists on opening and reading them, even if Tsukki complains about it the entire time. It’s important, he thinks, since someone went to all the trouble of putting their feelings into words.

Tadashi, of course, has never received a confession from a girl. It stings, though he’s unlikely to say it to Tsukki himself. At least Tadashi actually _likes_ girls.

(Boys too, but he isn’t about to bring that up with Tsukki either.)

It’s enough, though, that he and Tsukki are in the same high school and get to work together. It’s enough that Tadashi doesn’t get bullied as much anymore as he used to.

He tells himself these things, expecting that they’ll cheer him up, but when lunch period ends and he says goodbye before going back to his own classroom, he finds himself only feeling worse about things.

It doesn’t help that as soon as he sits down, he can see thick flakes of snow falling once again since he only grabbed his gakuran on the way out the door. It’s hanging on the back of his chair now, next to his bag.

At least he remembered to pack his homework the night before, even though he gets a quiz back with a failing grade on it in return.

Tadashi slumps in his seat with a little groan, wondering what else he should have expected. He’s decidedly average at most school subjects, and the only ones he stands out in are because of poor grades.

Truly, there isn’t anything that Yamaguchi Tadashi is exceptional at.

He’s glad none of his classmates know he’s an exorcist. It’s not that magic is a secret—most people know of it, even if few people are actually able to use it. Most people regard magic as strange, scary even, and Tadashi doesn’t want to give people even less reason to like him. He’s not even particularly good at magic. Suga and Tsukki are both more gifted than he is, and he doesn’t have the same talent for spirit weapons that Daichi does.

It’s likely that he’ll only be good enough to work as Tsukki’s partner until someone better shows up.

There’s a lump building in Tadashi’s throat like he might cry, but he’s not sure what there is to be so sad over. It’s simply the state of his life as it is right now. He stares at the low score of his quiz, wondering why it suddenly seems like the end of the world.

He slides out of the classroom once the final bell of the day rings. Usually, he waits outside of Tsukki’s class for his best friend to leave as well, but today he finds himself walking down the stairs alone, trying to adjust the position of his bag on his shoulder.

His back is sore, and Tadashi can’t seem to find a way to settle the strap without putting more pressure on it. When he tries to shift the strap again, it snaps, reeling out of his hand and sending his bag rolling down the stairs ahead of him. Tadashi yelps, staring as it bounces between the legs of other students, landing at the bottom and spilling carefully folded paper charms across the floor.

For a second, he’s glad that at least there’s no laughter as he scrambles to pick them up, half-tripping on his way down the stairs. There’s definitely quiet, and that’s more uncomfortable to listen to, and the prickling feeling of people staring at his back as he desperately stuffs everything away, wrinkling the delicate paper shapes in the process.

Tadashi clutches his bag against his chest as he walks toward his locker, fingers tipped with white where he grips it. He glances up only to find several faces turning quickly away from him. There’s a soft buzz of whispers and Tadashi would like nothing more than to sink into the floor and avoid them.

Tsukki doesn’t tap his shoulder, though Tadashi can feel him hovering, waiting to go home. There’s a confused wrinkle in his brow, and Tadashi hazards a smile when he finished tying his shoes on his feet. “R- ready to go, Tsukki?”

He gets a hum in response, and Tsukki glances around slightly though he doesn’t quite expend the effort of turning his head all the way. Tadashi swallows, and he can still feel people staring at him. Instead, he laughs as best he can and holds the torn strap of his bag for Tsukki to see. “Bad luck, huh?”

“Let’s go.” Tsukki frowns, tucking his hands into his pockets and walking out ahead of Tadashi. Like an obedient hound, Tadashi follows after him, rubbing the back of his neck. He can feel feathers there as well, and he tugs the collar of his shirt up nervously, wondering how much of his back must be covered in them by this point. There’s a strange, sore feeling to his shoulders as well, like his skin is suddenly too tight over his bones.

“People were talking about you.” He’s clearly not asking, and Tadashi slumps slightly, carrying his bag tucked under his arm with a slight sigh.

“I guess. Probably.” He doesn’t particularly want to explain why. It’s not likely that Tsukki will laugh at him, but Tadashi imagines one of those looks—like Tsukki is wondering why the two of them are friends in the first place—and his heart climbs into his throat.

He can’t figure that one out for himself, really. Tsukki may not have the most friendly attitude toward strangers, but Tadashi is sure that he could do better as far as friends are concerned. He’s smart, talented, it’s obvious that people _want_ to be his friend. Maybe it’s just because Tadashi has known him for so long, but that seems a tenuous connection at best.

Tadashi wonders how long it’ll be exactly before that connection isn’t enough to keep him by Tsukki’s side anymore.

“Why ‘probably’?” Tsukki turns to look at him now, scowling, and Tadashi shrugs his shoulders.

“I dropped some of my stuff when my bag broke—it’s no big deal.” He hopes that remains true, at least. He’d like for it to remain no big deal, though there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he won’t be quite that lucky.

He has never been before, at least.

Tsukki hums once again, but if anything he looks more frustrated than Tadashi is used to seeing. It’s true that he’s never really had the sharp edge of Tsukki’s tongue focused on him. If anything, making Tsukki angry with him tends to result in prolonged, sullen silences that make Tadashi more anxious to fill the space with noise and chatter.

Usually, that works, though it’s unheard of for the two of them to actually face a conflict head on. It suits Tadashi just as well—the idea of actually fighting with Tsukki doesn’t have any appeal to him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on, Yamaguchi?” Tsukki asks, one hand gripping his headphones. Tadashi jolts at that, his hand almost going nervously to his neck. He stills it in mid-air, then waves dismissively.

“I just had a bad day! Tomorrow will be better, so don’t worry about it Tsukki!” It’s easy to smile his way through this one. He’s made this kind of excuse to Tsukki dozens of times to cover up all kinds of minor disappointments; kids hiding his gym clothes on him, or drawings scrawled in chalk across his desk that he’s quick to wipe away. He’s never lied about anything quite so serious to Tsukki before, but there’s a sinking fear in his stomach that he doesn’t yet want to confront.

It’s not like Tsukki needs to be troubled with his problems, anyway.

There’s a downward twitch at the corners of Tsukki’s mouth like he wants to frown but can’t quite bring himself to. Tadashi reaches out, catching the corner of Tsukki’s sleeve between two of his fingers, giving it a small tug and shining his best smile. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Tsukki inclines his head slightly, and Tadashi thinks he catches the hint of a smile before he lets go of Tsukki’s sleeve.

Tsukki’s expression is still slightly pinched when he stands outside of Tadashi’s door, the evening settling cool and dark around their shoulders. He looks like Tadashi is a puzzle that he’d like the answer to, but Tadashi merely waves a cheery goodbye and lets himself inside.

He spends the rest of the evening in front of the mirror, slowly picking feathers out of his skin and doing his best to rinse the blood off when he finishes. He feels strange, out of sorts, when he finishes. Still, he can’t ignore the homework that needs to be done, and it’s late by the time he drags himself to bed and closes his eyes. 

 

*** * ***

Tadashi wakes again well before the first rays of the morning sun peek through his curtains.

He wakes because of a splitting pain down his back. He sits up, kicking his way free of the blankets and trying to claw the shirt off of his back. When he touches it, he finds the fabric sticky with blood and shed feathers. He can’t quite reach the spot on his back that hurts so badly, a large patch directly over his shoulder blades, but he can feel small streams of blood leaking out of his skin.

Despite the dark of his room, Tadashi stumbles across the hall to the bathroom, a pained sob catching in his throat and swelling, threatening to choke him. He fumbles for the light, leaving a streak of red on the white plastic casing from his stained fingers. He catches himself on the counter, staring into the mirror.

The first thing he notices is not that more feathers have grown in, dotting his shoulders and arms, but the two shapes that have started to emerge from his back.

He reaches his trembling fingers behind him, using his reflection as guidance until he touches one of them. It’s soft, slippery with his blood, and Tadashi, this time, can’t stop the sob that shakes through him. He can feel the texture of feathers, slicked together by the blood.

Wings. He’s growing wings.

Tadashi stands in the bathroom, staring in some kind of twisted fascination as they emerge another inch, his shoulders shaking with the incredible pain of it.

He bites down on the inside of his arm to keep from crying out, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s a struggle just to remain standing with his knees trembling under him like they are. Still, it’s jarring when he ends up kneeling on the floor, knees aching slightly from the impact and one hand still clinging futilely to the counter.

It’s impossible to tell how much time he spends like that, or how much more he spends curled up with his knees hugged to his chest, while the wings finish extending all the way from his back.

They’re much larger than he would have anticipated—extended they’re almost twice as long as the span of his arms, and when he finally figures out how to properly use his muscles to tuck them against his back, they press tight to his shoulders and end just above his backside.

He drags himself into the shower, running the water as hot as he can stand it and doing his best to rinse the blood off his new feathers. It’s a strange feeling, and by the time the water runs off his back in clear streams, rather than rivulets stained red or pink, he feels waterlogged. It feels like he’s somehow added ten pounds to his back, and he’s not exactly sure how to _dry_ something like feathers.

This must be why birds don’t fly in the rain, to begin with.

Tadashi extends each wing, doing his best to towel it carefully off and not pluck out any more feathers. He’s had enough of the little stinging wounds they leave behind, and more than enough of bleeding for the day. By the time he finishes, there’s sunlight streaming in through his window and he’s past exhausted. He’d like nothing more than to curl up in the bottom of the shower, wrap the wings around himself, and go to sleep.

And then, of course, the alarm on his phone starts to play. Tadashi sneaks out of the bathroom quietly, though he doubts there’s anyone listening—or anyone in his house who would care enough to question him.

Back in his room, he turns the alarm off and stands frozen in the middle of the room for a long moment, wondering what it is he should do. He can’t very well skip school with the excuse that he’s grown wings in the middle of the night—and after yesterday he isn’t terribly eager to go back. Still, he’s a terrible liar and at the very least Tsukki will want to know what’s going on with him.

Tadashi rummages in the drawer of his desk until he finds a roll of sports wrap, long since forgotten when he stopped playing volleyball in pursuit of training as an exorcist instead. He unwinds it from its roll carefully, using it to tie the wings tight against his back. It’s more uncomfortable than he expects it to be, having the feathers pressed so tightly against him, and no matter how much he tries shuffling he can’t quite ease the slight ache it causes.

Still, it’ll have to do well enough until he thinks of something better. He’s careful with his now broken bag, tossing the remaining strap over his shoulder and making his way down the stairs to meet Tsukki. He’s on time today, at least, thanks in no small part to having been awake already for the last several hours.

At least the gakuran and shirt are enough to cover any bump on his back that the wings might create, and when Tsukki arrives he doesn’t seem to be looking for anything amiss, something else that works in Tadashi’s favor. Tsukki yawns, sliding the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck, giving Tadashi a nod as they start working. “Did you figure your algebra work out?”

“I think so.” The mundane question feels slightly surreal to Tadashi, and at this point, he barely remembers any of the answers that he put down on his homework. Even the fear of failing seems slightly further away than usual, though it still simmers beneath the surface. Apparently even growing wings isn’t enough to completely cure him of that.

When they arrive at school, Tadashi can immediately tell that things aren’t entirely right. People are staring at him, which is already outside of the usual—he’s used to being ignored by the vast majority of people.

Worse is the sense that they start to whisper about him as soon as he passes by. He would chalk it up to his own paranoia, except he can see the annoyed tilt of Tsukki’s lips, the way his gaze slides over people with irritation only growing stronger. Tadashi wills himself not to hear what’s being said. It doesn’t matter, he tries telling himself, he doesn’t need to know what they’re whispering.

It worries him, still. His fingers twitch around the remaining strap of his bag and his wings shuffle nervously against his back. He tries to force them still, worried they’ll make a noise loud enough for Tsukki to hear, but his attention seems to be elsewhere, to begin with. Tadashi sets his bag down carefully, stepping out of his shoes so he can place them in his locker.

He opens it, not expecting the dozens of slips of paper that come tumbling out. They land in a pile on the ground, and Tadashi can see that they’re all crudely shaped seals with words scrawled on them in various handwriting. He leans down, picking one up and unfolding it carefully.

 **DIE!!** is all that it reads, and Tadashi crumples it in his fingers. He can see another by his foot that says _witch_ , and he’s quickly put off from trying to read any of the others.

His shoulders slump as he gathers up as many as he can hold, not sure what he should do with them. He’s glad Tsukki’s locker is around the corner. It gives him enough time to scramble and stuff them back into his locker, setting his shoes on top and closing it quickly. There’s laughter behind him, but Tadashi doesn’t turn to look at who it might be.

Picking himself up and sliding his slippers on, Tadashi makes his way up the stairs, not waiting for Tsukki to join him.

If he expected anything to be better once classes started, he’s sorely disappointed. If anything, it seems like people are going out of their way to avoid catching his attention. Tadashi is used to feeling like people look directly through him—he’s not used to the feeling of glances being cast back towards him, of people looking away quickly to avoid catching his eye when he looks up at the board.

They’re scared of him, he realizes. The thought almost makes him laugh—at this point, he can’t really blame them. He’s terrified of himself. It wouldn’t take someone trained in magic to know that sprouting feathers and growing wings isn’t a good thing. There’s something going incredibly wrong with him, and Tadashi isn’t sure what he could even do about it.

Telling Tsukki seems impossible, as does opening up to anyone else, really. He’s alone in facing this, and Tadashi isn’t equipped for handling things well on his own. He slumps down further in his seat, pressing his chin into his forearm, hoping against hope that if he just makes himself seem a little smaller people will at least stop casting such terrified looks at him.

They don’t stop, of course, and by the time he’s released for lunch, Tadashi wants to do nothing more than to find a small, dark place to hide in. He’s barely paid attention to his classes, and he’s wondering if he can think up a decent enough excuse to get himself sent home.

He gathers his barely remembered lunch up to go eat with Tsukki, only to find Daichi standing outside of his class when he leaves. It’s clear that his upperclassmen is trying hard to look casual as if he for some reason just wandered to the first-year classes. Still, when he spots Tadashi leaving class he smiles, lifting a hand to wave. “Yamaguchi-kun, come with me.”

“Oh. I- I was just going to meet up with Tsukki,” Tadashi stumbles, surprised by the direction. Daichi shakes his head, lifting his hand like he intends to clap Tadashi on the back. Concerned that Daichi will notice the wings if he does, Tadashi dodges the contact nervously. “R- really.”

“Suga and I want to eat with you today. We already talked to Tsukishima.” Daichi is still smiling, though he looks slightly confused as he lowers his hand.

“Okay,” Tadashi gives in, not sure what other choices he really has. Part of him wants to flee, and the fear that he’s right on the edge of letting both of his senpai down doesn’t make him feel any less like running away might be his best choice.

He’s glad that Daichi doesn’t take him back to the third-years hall, but instead to the small classroom that’s used as the official-unofficial place for their training as exorcists. Suga is inside already, his lunch neatly tied in its wrapping in front of him, and he looks up with a smile that makes Tadashi feel at least a little bit warmer. “Yamaguchi-kun!”

“A- afternoon, Suga-san,” Tadashi mumbles, sitting across from Suga and gripping his lunch nervously. He can’t help but feel like the two of them pulled him away from his usual lunch with Tsukki for a _reason_.

It quickly becomes apparent, once Daichi takes a seat as well and clears his throat. “So, things have been a little rough for you the last few days, right?”

“I- I’m fine,” Tadashi holds his hands up, nearly dropping his chopsticks in his haste. Suga looks almost amused by the denial, but he shakes his head lightly.

“It’s not like we’re blind to what’s going on.” It’s not quite all the way to being scolding, but it’s plenty for making Tadashi close his mouth and slump in front of his seat.

“People are scared of me—I hope everyone just forgets about all of this.” He balls his hands into fists in his lap, hunching his shoulders slightly. His shirt feels too tight around his shoulders, the wings shuffling against the binding hold them flush against his back. He hopes it’s not noticeable.

Before Tadashi has a chance to flinch away again, Suga reaches out and slaps his shoulder. It has too much force, typical of Suga’s style of motivation, and it leaves Tadashi’s shoulder stinging as he blinks up at Suga’s bright smile. “Don’t worry too much! We’ll keep an eye on things for you. Just come talk to someone if you get trouble.”

“A- are you sure? It’s, um. I’m used to having trouble with people like that, so it isn’t anything that I can’t handle on my own,” he hazards a smile with that, only to be met with a concerned furrow in Daichi’s brow.

Sometimes Tadashi forgets that not everyone dances around feelings the same way Tsukki does. Being confronted so directly, even by two people who he knows only mean to help him is more than just a little odd. He doesn’t know which answers they’re really looking for, and because of that, he feels off balance already.

Suga clears his throat after the two of them exchange a look that Tadashi can only hazard a guess at the meaning of, nodding his head. “Well don’t be scared to come to either of us, alright?”

“Sure.” Tadashi sinks slightly in his seat, nodding his head and looking determinedly down at his food.

He finished as quickly as he can and makes an excuse about going to find Tsukki before class starts again to escape. Neither of them protest it, but Tadashi can feel the heavy weight of their stares on his back as he leaves.

Tsukki is exactly where Tadashi expects to find him—seated at his dead, headphones on, food already finished. He doesn’t look up immediately, not until Tadashi takes the seat across from him with a slightly strained smile.

Even here, people are staring at him, and the focus makes Tadashi want to curl up in a ball and hide.

He’s become so used to being invisible—but he never thought it was something that he would come to _miss_. Tsukki slides his headphones back around his neck, arching an eyebrow slightly. “Didn’t you have other plans today?”

“I got them to let me go early,” Tadashi smiles, and this time it feels just a little bit more real. He’s more comfortable talking with Tsukki than anybody else, though it’s been easy to forget lately when he has so much to hide.

Still, the two of them aren’t best friends because they don’t get along. “I know they mean well, but it’s kinda awkward.”

Tsukki doesn’t laugh, but his mouth twitches slightly toward a smile. Tadashi’s more relaxed here, even with people staring at him like he’s about to burst into flames than he’s felt all week. “I- if you’re not busy tonight, maybe we could play more of that new game?”

“Sure.” Tsukki hardly sounds very committed, but Tadashi knows him well enough to appreciate the agreement. Tsukki doesn’t agree to things that he doesn’t want to do or do things just for Tadashi’s benefit.

Lunch is starting to draw to an end, and Tadashi doesn’t want to call more attention to himself by being late as well. So, he stands up, rubbing the back of his neck, glad when he doesn’t feel feathers there. “Awesome.”

When he turns, Tsukki’s eyes narrow at him for just a moment, and Tadashi is nervous all over again. He wishes he could do more to hide the wings currently bound tightly to his back because he’s worried Tsukki is going to see right through him like this.

But Tsukki doesn’t say anything, just puts his headphones back on before Tadashi leaves.

 

*** * ***

Of course, neither of them end up with free time in the evening to play a game.

Tadashi should know it by now, but his luck just isn’t that good.

They wind up instead in a part of town that Tadashi does not want to be prowling at night, looking for a Haunt that slipped away from them over an hour ago when Tadashi almost slipped on some ice and it heard him, shedding the human that it had been using as a host and fleeing.

Worse than just being cold, and stuck looking through dark alleys for something he isn’t sure he wants to find, Tadashi knows it’s his fault that this is going to take them the better part of the evening to clean up. It doesn’t matter so much for him, he supposes. His mother works nights, and won’t be around to miss him no matter how late he gets in.

But Tsukki’s mom will be home, probably wondering where Tsukki is despite the late evenings he tends to spend with Tadashi anyway. It’s an easy excuse for getting out of parental supervision, not that the two of them really ever get up to much on their own.

Well, much other than hunting dangerous spirits and risking hypothermia or getting mugged. As effective as the two of them (or at least Tsukki) might be at fighting Haunts, they’re still a pair of high schoolers and they aren’t exactly well protected against human threats.

There’s a smell in the air now, and a strange feeling in Tadashi’s stomach. It’s past the regular level of hunger that comes from the two of them having skipped dinner, but it’s hunger still. Like it’s seeped into his very bones. Tsukki sighs, standing at the mouth of yet another alley, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “I guess we should check this one too.”

“I-” Tadashi opens his mouth, then hesitates. “I don’t think it’s down that one.”

Tsukki turns to look at him, his lips pursed slightly, and Tadashi almost shies away from the attention entirely. He can’t explain how he knows that, outside of some sense that he doesn’t really want to contemplate the origin of. He pauses once again, looking around, and as surreptitiously as he can, sniffing at the air.

He doesn’t do a good job of hiding it, it seems. Tsukki frowns at him, his eyebrow knitting together. “Are you a dog now?”

Tadashi hopes the dark is enough to cover for the way his cheeks flame scarlet at the comment, shrugging his shoulders. “I just don’t think it’s down there. It needs a new host, right?”

Tsukki hums in uneasy agreement, looking around. The street they’re on is mostly quiet, and the wind whistles slightly as it blows, causing Tadashi to shiver and his wings to rustle slightly, trying to shift and block more of the cold from his back.

“Fine. Where do you think it is?” Tsukki frowns, hunching over slightly further himself to try and escape the wind. Tadashi ducks his head, sniffing once again.

The fact that he can _smell_ a Haunt is maybe more unsettling than having grown wings. Worse than that once he picks a direction and sets off at a jog with Tsukki following him, Tadashi can sense that they’re getting closer and it only makes the hunger that’s settled in the pit of his stomach grow worse.

He tries to block it out of his head, even as it aches all the way to his bones.

The Haunt is a large, babbling thing when they find it. It hasn’t yet found another host and is dragging it’s large, vaguely-reptilian body through an alleyway that joins up to a more populated street. The mouth of it opens vertically when it turns to snarl at Tsukki and Tadashi, revealing row upon row of pin-like teeth. Something shivers in the pit of Tadashi’s stomach but it isn’t fear like usual. It's excitement--he's excited to see this monster, grown stronger after feeding on humans, and other Haunts if it came across any weak enough to be simply devoured by its wide jaws. Tsukki's lip is curled slightly in distaste, drawing the silver pistol out of his pocket and gripping it firmly in both hands. "We'll have to seal it."

It's too strong to be simply shot down like a Haunt that's still stuck to its human host, and Tadashi nods his head, pulling a seal out of his pocket. There's the soft sound of paper tearing, barely audible over the confused gobbling of the Haunt as it smells silver in the air and shuffles it's multitude of legs, clearly intent on the two of them now. Tadashi looks down at his hands to find that his nails have gone long, and black, and sharper than they should be. They tore through the delicate paper of the seal in his hands, and there's another little hum of fear that slips down his spine to his core when he sees it.

Is he anything more than a monster himself now?

Before Tsukki notices, he digs another seal out more carefully. It's not the same one he wanted, to begin with--it's weaker, and he'll have to augment the strength of the magic for it to have any hope of damaging the Haunt. Swallowing hard, he pricks the tip of his thumb with one of his newly grown claws, drawing out a bead of blood and rolling it across the folded paper.

It blooms like a flower opening in the spring, the drop of Tadashi's blood being caught in the middle where it's absorbed into the paper like a wayward fleck of ink. The seal grows larger and larger, etching glowing symbols onto the ground beneath Tadashi's feet. At first, they have a familiar, golden light that usually makes him feel comforted. This time, steam ebbs up from them and they burn like coals under Tadashi's feet, red and angry. Tsukki looks down at the strange seal, still growing as the paper crumbles away into nothing more than a handful of ash, and stumbles away from it.

"What--" He doesn't get a chance to finish the question, because the Haunt screams. It rears as well as it can, legs flailing in the air, and Tadashi can see where it's been burnt by the seal. Strangely, the ground under his feet doesn't feel hotter than usual, though smoke rises from the broken pavement beneath him. Tadashi steps towards the Haunt, towards the brightly glowing center of the seal. As he walks, chains made of some red hot molten material shoot up from the cracked ground, wrapping around the Haunt.

It screeches, voice reedy and horrible, trying to struggle free even as the chains sear its flesh.

This is his chance. Tadashi knows it the way a hunter knows when prey is too weak or sick to escape. This is his moment to strike, to feed. He can grow stronger here, so strong that no one could stop him...

Tadashi doesn't realize how _wrong_ this is until he's standing over the haunt, wings struggling against the tape that holds them against his back, trying to unfurl and show his full glory. Tsukki is saying something, shouting maybe judging by the look on his face, but Tadashi feels as though he's very far away from all of that.

He looks down at the Haunt once more, tongue running over the sharp teeth in the front of his mouth. He doesn't know when they became that way, but he nearly slices his tongue on one of the fangs.

He needs to devour this creature, to drink its blood, to become _strong_...

The ricochet of the gun in Tsukki's hands doesn't surprise him this time. But it does rob enough of his attention for him to turn away from the Haunt, now twitching on the ground with a smoking hole in its head and the chains constricting tighter and tighter around it. Tadashi drops, his knees biting into the pavement uncomfortably and scrapes tearing layers of skin away from his palms.

He has his eye shut so tightly that he thinks for a moment that the searing red behind his eyelids is natural until he realizes the seal is still burning on the ground. His palms feel hot, like his hands might be burnt away entirely, and when Tadashi opens his eyes, the same red chains are starting to wrap around his arms, holding him fast in place. Tadashi lifts his head, fear filling his mouth hot and metallic and keeping him from shouting for Tsukki's attention the way he wants to.

Tsukki is already standing over him, another seal in his hand. He drops it before leaning over quickly, wrapping both his hands around Tadashi's middle and hauling him away as the burning red of the seal is overtaken with gold and then cool blue. Tadashi stands unsteadily, his legs still shaking, leaning his weight on Tsukki without thinking. Tsukki doesn't seem to think much of it either because his arms remain locked around Tadashi.

It's like a hug--almost. Tadashi's palms are still sizzling with steam and there's blood on the tears in his pants from hitting the ground. Tsukki drops his arms once the seal has cooled and faded away, stepping back only once he's sure Tadashi won't fall again. "Yamaguchi. What was that?"

Tadashi opens his mouth to explain. To tell Tsukki that he corrupted the spell accidentally by using his own blood, because whatever is wrong with him has sunk that deep. He's never heard of anything like this before. He would know if a Haunt had attached to him, he's sure, but that would only cause him to become isolated and depressed, or weak until he simply withered away. Haunts didn't turn people into monsters like him.

No sound comes out. He can't find the words. Instead, he rubs his face in his sleeve to wipe away the hot tears he can feel running down his cheeks and turns to run headlong down the alley, back up the street they came.

Tsukki doesn't chase him; Tadashi didn't expect him to.

 

*** * ***

At first, Tadashi runs without any destination in mind. He's simply trying to escape, and he knows he's leaving tiny feathers in his wake, tearing them out of his skin as they sprout along his arms.

But, when he finds himself in front of the shrine where Suga first showed him how to properly fold a seal, it feels like the right place to be. He knows the place is defended by old, old magic. It's evident in the way that the pair of shisa statues flanking the steps are still in pristine condition, and for a moment Tadashi worries that they'll tear him apart rather than let him pass through.

They remain cold and impassive as he walks between them, their matched snarls turned out toward dangers in the outside world. It makes Tadashi feel slightly better, knowing that he's not so lost that he can't set for on the sacred ground. There's no one around so late on a winter night, but the stairs have been shoveled clean of snow, and they're easy for Tadashi to climb quickly, ignoring the cramping in his side from his desperate run to get there.

The door to the temple itself unlocks to a soft press of Tadashi's hand, and perhaps a quietly whispered 'please'. He doesn't truly know what he's going to do here. His best thought is to try and purify himself, though it's not quite as simple as all that.

Purifications are dangerous since they don't remove the offending spirit but destroy it completely. But Tadashi can't exorcise whatever has taken up residence inside him on his own, and now that he's seeking it, he can feel the darkness in the back of his mind. It aches, almost, like the space of a missing tooth prodded raw.

Tadashi isn't sure that he can perform a purification on himself either, but he's determined to try, at least.

He arranges the ceremony slowly, always wondering if someone is going to burst in and stop him. He lights the candles that enclose the small room, takes off his shirt and slowly removes the binding on his wings, letting them stretch out to their full lengths slowly. They're cramped, something he supposes he should expect from having them tied down all day, and they shed small black feathers onto the ground. Tadashi picks one up, spinning it slowly between his fingers. It's glossy and smooth, slightly iridescent even in the limited light cast by the candles.

Tadashi feels slightly strange, looking at the feather and knowing it came from his own body somehow. He drops it back to the floor, and brushing several more aside with his foot, takes a seat in a meditative pose that Daichi taught him. He closes his eyes slowly, inhaling deep to fill his lungs with the soft aroma from the burning candles. He can't place the smell, but it makes him feel comforted at least.

He's never performed a purification before, he's never even seen it done. He lets his breath out slowly, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut, focusing on where he can feel the spirit trying to lurk outside of his awareness.

When he finds it, he grips it tight with his attention, refusing to let it slink away. From there, he knows he needs to split his attention, to focus part of his mind on holding the spirit tight, and the other on forming the spell that will destroy it and cleanse him. Tadashi tries, though as soon as he shifts his full attention away from holding the spirit fast he can feel it wiggle against his grip like a caught fish.

Still, Tadashi does his best to form the spell, his lips moving along to words so old the true meaning of them has been lost. He hands grip into brutal fists in his lap, claws cutting into the already damaged skin of his palms. There's a cold sweat breaking out over his body, drops sliding down his temples and his back, and every distraction allows the spirit to struggle harder against him, to get closer and closer to freedom.

The spell forms slowly in his mind, much more slowly than Tadashi thinks it should. Like picking individual snowflakes from a blizzard. Tadashi can feel it melting the harder he tries to grasp it.

When the spirit breaks free, it's not just from the grip Tadashi tries to hold it in. It feels like spiders set loose inside his brain, like hands touching parts of his mind that should never be known. Tadashi forces his eyes open, the vision of the candles and their flickering light swimming, making him more confused. His head hurts, and his chest is worse. Every beat of his heart is sore and labored, and Tadashi grips at his chest with one bloodied hand, claws scoring into his skin.

He stumbles to his feet, trying to find his way to his bag despite his confused vision. He can call for help--Suga or Daichi, or even Tsukki. He was foolish to face this alone, but he's afraid that no matter who he calls he won't find help. He's an idiot, and he created this mess for himself, to begin with. They'll be scared of him too, just like the rest of the school. Too scared to come help.

Tadashi falls to the ground again well before he reaches his backpack, coughing. He can feel the blood that clings to his lips, and his wings stretch out again though this time without Tadashi's order. He feels woozy and disconnected from his body.

And, slowly, he drops his hand from his aching chest to the floor, pushing himself up slowly. He can feel the pain in his hands, in the rest of his body. He can feel the way his muscles move to push him back to his feet, and the way his legs shake from his own weight.

But Tadashi didn't try to stand. No matter what he tries, he finds he's not in control of his body at all. He's confined to a tiny corner of his own mind, watching the outside world as something that isn't him, something that's hungry and terrible, stumbles toward the door. There's smoke rising from his footsteps, and Tadashi realizes that the temple itself is trying to fight him off.

There's snarling outside the door, and when Tadashi opens it, he finds himself staring at the pair of shisa. They're statues no long, but now flesh and blood, with saliva dripping from their great jaws, ready to devour the monster that blundered into their domain.

 

By the time both of the great guardians are lying as nothing more than bleeding, rent flesh at his feet, Tadashi has given up trying to regain control of his own body. It's clear that whatever has taken control of him is far stronger than he is. Strong and hungry.

His wings unfurl, this time with purpose. His body drops into a slight crouch, and the wings beat hard and heavy in the air for a moment.

Then, springing into a high leap, he soars into the air, leaving the temple, and the dead guardians, and everything that was once Yamaguchi Tadashi on the ground behind him.

Too weak to continue fighting it, Tadashi lets his own awareness sink into a darkness like an uneasy sleep.


End file.
